


Hooah

by bulma90_13



Series: Omega!Tim [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: Abuse of Power, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Army Rangers, Child Abuse, Dubious Consent, Due to the nature of Alpha/Omega stuff, First Time, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's a little traumatic, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Military Background, Omega Verse, Pseudoscience, Puberty, Sex while under effects of heat/hormones, Sexism, Sexist Language, Soldiers, Tim Is A Badass, Tim gets a Pap smear, Unrealistic dialogue between military personnel (probably), could be triggery, omega tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulma90_13/pseuds/bulma90_13
Summary: “With all due respect, sir, I don't want to be the first omega Ranger.  I just want to be a Ranger.”Tim's origin story.  Prequel to "Secrets."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Act of Mercy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248036) by [drop_an_idea_on_a_page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drop_an_idea_on_a_page/pseuds/drop_an_idea_on_a_page). 



> Ratings, tags and warnings will change as story progresses.
> 
> If you ever have any concerns about something potentially triggery, drop me a line on my shiny new [Tumblr](https://bulma90-13.tumblr.com/ask).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you come across something you're unfamiliar with, I've included a "military glossary" at the end of each chapter to help because I'm a super nerd.

Tim can't remember a time in his life when he didn't know Hank Biggs. He lived in the house behind Tim, and they were best friends, period. Hank's family had a radio in his mama's kitchen that she would let them tune sometimes, and they would scream the lyrics to Bon Jovi as they raced out the back door and into the tall grass near the woods.

Hank's family had been in the military for three generations, so he was born believing he would be an Army Ranger, like his father and grandfather before him. And of course, Tim would follow him anywhere, so Tim was going to be an Army Ranger, too.

As a boy, Tim's father took him into the woods on the weekends with his hunting rifle and what little ammo he could afford. He told Tim not to take the shot unless he was sure he could hit the deer. When Tim missed, his father would kick him in the ribs. When Tim made the shot, his father would leave him alone to drag the carcass back to the truck. If Tim couldn't carry it himself, Tim didn't eat dinner.

Tim's mother passed when he was eight. Her heart gave out, is what his grandparents told the neighbors at the service. But then his father had drank himself into spitting the ugly truth: that she had overdosed and left him alone to fucking deal with Tim.

***

Everything changed one morning when Tim was 14. He woke with his legs tangled in his bedsheets. He was soaked through his pajamas, his stomach churning with acid, his skin burning. When he looked down, he saw himself tenting in his slick-soaked bottoms. At his realization, the acid turned to lead in his stomach and he leaned over just in time to be sick on the floor.

He changed out of his clothes and ran to Hank's house, praying that his father wouldn't find cause to search his room before he had time to clean up the carnage.

Hank's mother was solemn as she ordered Tim to shower. She phoned Tim's father, and by some miracle forced him over without telling him why. In her small but neat kitchen, she told Bob Gutterson that his son was an omega, that he would need special looking-after. Tim listened with Hank from the living room, knowing that nothing she said would make a difference. He could have been born the most powerful Alpha this small town had ever seen, his dad would still beat on him.

Hank's small arms squeezed Tim tight. “We're gettin' outta this town, Tim. You n'me, we're gonna be Rangers.”

Tim smiled.

***

Tim supposed he didn't mind being an omega so much. It certainly wasn't as bad as all the girls made it out to be.

Once a month, his skin would start to itch, so the boys would hike to one of the old caves in the park, and Tim would unpack his sleeping bag while Hank stood watch. Hank's mama bought Tim one of those fake dicks with a knot that omegas could use to get through their heats, but Tim never did get used to the idea of it, and his face would turn red every time she brought it up. Instead, Tim opted to shake in his sleeping bag, sweating it out. Each time seemed to get more and more bearable, until finally his time of the month was just a minor annoyance. He changed his underwear a little more than usual, but there weren't any Alphas in town to bother him, so life would continue as usual.

He knew he could, knew they existed, but he didn't want to take any sups because medications of any kind aren't allowed in basic. So long as he could power through his heat on his own, he stood a chance of making it as an infantryman.

***

The day that Tim got his learner's permit, his father let him drive out to the state park. He parked the car, and they both started up a trailhead that Tim had never taken before. But then his father veered off to the left, off the path and into the woods. After two hours of hiking into the wild forest, and Tim's father knocked him out cold with a punch to the temple that forced his head against a tree. Tim came-to in the dark with nothing but the clothes on his back and the small compass on his watch. By the time the sun had started to rise, he had found the highway and hitchhiked back home. His father glared at him when Tim stumbled through the door.

“Don't you know when to stay dead, boy?”

Tim said nothing. He climbed the stairs to change his clothes for school.

***

Hank and Tim focused on training in high school. They ran together every morning, hiked on the weekends, their backpacks full and heavy, and practiced carrying each other through the woods.

The day Tim turned eighteen, the boys went to the recruiter's office in Fayetteville. Less than three months later, after graduating high school, they were off to Fort Benning. Tim never saw his father again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fort Benning, Georgia - Army Base, home of the United States Army Infantry School, the 75th Ranger Regiment, and many other units


	2. Chapter 2

Tim was about to change into his pajamas when he smelled an Alpha walk up behind him.

“Gutterson!” It was Drill Sergeant Mills. He was one of the first Alphas Tim had ever seen up close. He tried to avoid his gaze as much as possible. He felt the Alpha's eyes on his skin like tiny ants crawling everywhere. “Come with me.”

Tim followed his Drill Sergeant through the barracks to an office where there was another officer waiting in a chair. She looked pleasant enough, but her face was pulled tight, and Tim could smell the sadness in the air.

“Private, I have some bad news,” she said.

Tim didn't move.

“We received news your father passed yesterday.”

Still, Tim didn't move.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Private. Our records indicate he was your only living relative.”

Tim found his voice, “Yes, ma'am.”

Her pinched face was making Tim nauseous. “We'll prepare for your travel arrangements back to Arkansas.”

Tim's heart seized in his chest. “With all due respect, Captain, I'm not leaving basic.”

Her owlish brown eyes blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“My father wouldn't want his death getting in the way of my future. I don't need emergency leave, I just need to make a phone call. I can take care of everything else after my training.”

The woman had the audacity to glare at Tim. “No one expects you to just go on, business as usual, private. There's no shame in recycling back in once you've had time to adjust to your loss.”

Tim nodded. “If it _is_ my choice, I'm choosing to stay. With or without that phone call, ma'am.”

The female captain stood abruptly. “Fine, Private. It's your decision. But we will need to update your paperwork, seeing as your next of kin is now dead.”

“Private Hank Biggs, he's my next of kin.”

Maybe Tim wasn't totally used to Alphas and the subtlety of identifying their scents, but he swore he could smell the pride emanating from his Drill Sergeant behind him.

***

“Colonel Fischer, sir! Thank you for meeting with me!”

Donovan watched as the NCO strode down the hallway toward him at a fast pace.

“Sergeant Major Phillips,” Donovan returned. “Shall we?” He motioned to the open door to his office. Once they were both through the door, Donovan shut it and approached his desk. “Let's dispense with the formalities, okay, John? I know why you requested a meeting.”

Phillips froze. “You do, sir?”

Don smiled. “Of course I do. You think you're the first one to tell me that an omega volunteered for my regiment?”

Phillips nodded, licking his lips. “I wasn't holding out on you, sir. I just didn't want to get your hopes up.”

Don sat, motioned for Phillips to do the same. He waited for Phillips to sit before asking. “Tell me about him.”

“He's strong. Smart. Good with his rifle. Follows orders and stays out of trouble. Almost seems too good to be true.”

Don rubbed his chin. “So he'll be the first omega infantryman. And you think he can make it through RIP?”

“He enlisted with a beta. They're battle buddies.” Phillips added eagerly. “His best friend since childhood, from what I've gathered.”

Don grinned, and Phillips leaned away from the full set of teeth. “You see, John? This is exactly why we need them.”

But Phillips didn't seem to understand.

“How's the beta doing?” Don asked, undeterred.

Phillips seemed unsure. “Well, he's doing fine, I suppose. Sorry, sir, I wasn't focusing on him.”

Don waved him off. “Never mind.” He leaned back in his chair, still grinning. Then he shot up from his chair, causing Phillips to jump up as well. “Good work, John! I expect weekly reports from here on out.”

Phillips stuttered, “W-well, he'll be going on to Airborne in a few weeks.”

Don nodded. “Perfect.”

***

Tim and Hank had been studying military history since he could read. He knew that soldiers of all genders and designations had been in the Army since World War II, female Alphas were drafted into the infantry for Vietnam, and that even today, beta and omega females were welcomed in most jobs.

But what he was trying to do was quite unheard of.

There was nothing official that banned male omegas from joining the 75th Regiment, as it was open to men. But that loophole was probably due to the fact that male omegas were 1) very rare, and 2) probably had no inkling whatsoever to join the infantry, let alone the most advanced raid force of the US Army.

Unless that omega happened to be Tim Gutterson.

Their contracts guaranteed them a spot in the Rangers Indoctrination Program as long as they passed the tests, but really, no one expected Tim to make it through his One Station Unit Training.

“You're not the first omega to try to go Infantry,” the recruiter told him. “You won't be the last.”

But the sun was hot that summer and it seemed like everything that made Tim an omega was put on hold. The entire time he was in Basic, his body never once went into heat. If it wasn't for his fellow recruits and Drill Sergeants hissing their slurs at him, he might've forgotten he was an omega at all. Since he'd been training what seemed like his whole life, he passed the physical training with flying colors.

His Drill Sergeant had the hint of a smile on his face when he placed the first blue cord on an omega. Hank's mother had come down for the graduation, after having taken care of selling Tim's family home and boxing up what she thought he would want to keep.

Tim didn't think there was anything in the house he still cared about, but he trusted her judgement.

A Colonel approached him after the ceremony. Tim saluted, and the Colonel returned it. Even from several feet away, outside on a windy day, Tim could smell the powerful Alpha. But he stood at attention under the man's scrutiny. This was what he was trained for, after all. He knew he couldn't make infantry without ruffling some feathers.

“Congratulations, Private Gutterson.”

“Thank you, Colonel Fischer.”

A moment passed. “So you know who I am, Private?”

“Yes, sir. I do.” Tim was fighting the urge not to smile. The commander of the Rangers was still talking to him.

The Alpha smiled. “Good. Meet me at my office tomorrow at 0900. There are some things we should discuss.”

“Yes, sir. I'll be there.”

Hank, who had been occupied with his family, finally found Tim.

“What did the Colonel want?”

“To set up a meeting,” Tim told him.

Hank smirked. “You lucky bastard.”

Tim smirked back. “Hooah.”

They had leave for the rest of the day, so Hank's family treated them both to dinner at Cracker Barrel. They were still in their uniforms, and during the meal, several people came over and thanked them for their service.

Hank's mama had never looked so proud.

***

Tim stood outside of the Colonel's office a few minutes before nine. He didn't want to be late, but he didn't want to be lingering outside the office, unintentionally eavesdropping either. His Drill Sergeant had left him there with little more than a grunt to report back to barracks by sundown. Tim had no idea how long this meeting would be.

Just as Tim was about to knock on the door, the Colonel opened it wide and beamed at Tim. “Private Gutterson, right on time.”

“Good morning, Colonel Fischer.”

“Come on in, have a seat.”

Tim didn't hesitate, he sat down across from the desk and watched as the Colonel made his way back to his own chair after shutting the door.

The temperature of the room seemed to skyrocket. He was older, could easily be Tim's father. But Tim could see the definition of his neck muscles and he tasted the man's scent in the air, like gunmetal and gasoline. Maybe it had something to do with the Colonel's age, because the Alpha recruits in his unit didn't smell nearly as strong as this man, didn't exude a fraction of his power. And the only thing Tim saw him do was close a door.

The Colonel smiled and folded his hands. “You're nervous.”

Tim swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Why is that?”

Tim collected his thoughts and answered honestly. “I'm wondering why you wanted to meet with me.”

The Colonel smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You're the first omega to ever complete Infantry School. You've also expressed interest in becoming the first omega Ranger. Why _wouldn't_ I want to meet with you?”

Tim swallowed a sigh. “With all due respect, sir, I don't want to be the first omega Ranger. I just want to be a Ranger.”

The Colonel sat back, studying the omega before him. Tim struggled not to look away.

Then the Colonel practically whispered, “That's because you don't know what it means to be an omega.”

Tim's response was involuntary: he turned beet red and looked away. “Do I have 'virgin' tattooed on my forehead, sir?”

The Colonel barked out a laugh. “No, Private. It's your scent.”

Tim looked back at him, undeniably curious.

The Colonel returned his gaze. “Do you really know nothing about yourself?” he asked honestly.

Tim didn't shrug. “Just what they taught us in school, which wasn't much. And nothing about male omegas.”

The Alpha was unconvinced. “What about your parents?”

“Betas, both of them, before they passed.”

“That's unusual, two betas siring a male omega,” the Colonel admitted softly to himself. Then he shrugged casually, and spoke louder. “Well...maybe that's your strength.”

“What is, sir?”

“You not knowing your limits.” He smiled. “Not knowing when to surrender.”

Tim smiled back. “I think Private Biggs would agree with you there, sir.”

The Colonel nodded. “He's the beta who enlisted with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Colonel considered that for a moment. “How many heats have you had, Private?”

Tim's eyes widened in disbelief. “Sir?”

“Answer the question, Private.”

Tim swallowed his fear. “Once a month, I guess, since I was fourteen.”

“And you never once thought about getting some help through it? You know, some omegas die without a knot.”

Tim shook his head. “Mine aren't that bad. I just ignore it, and it goes away in a couple days.” Tim took a breath. “And I haven't had one since I came here. Can't quite figure that.”

The Colonel nodded. “It's not uncommon for omegas to forgo their heats in Basic. Usually it's too much of a shock to the body.”

Tim nodded. “Makes sense, sir.”

“Mmhm. Well, that will change.”

Tim looked up.

“Your body will eventually adapt and overcome. And the next time your heat comes, you aren't going to have the luxury of ignoring it. You are going to be surrounded by Alphas, and you are going to have to make a choice.”

Tim was clenching his fists in his lap.

“You will either succumb to the effects of it and have to drop out of the program...or choose to get knotted and be kicked out of the program anyway.”

Tim looked down at his lap and forced his hands to stop shaking.

“Or...” The Colonel continued. “There is another way.”

Tim's head shot up and he watched as the Colonel went to a filing cabinet on the wall and unlocked it. He pulled out an unmarked bottle and placed it on the desk right in front of Tim.

“Take one of these every morning, and you never have to worry about a pesky little biological imperative like a heat cycle.”

Tim stared at the bottle for a solid minute before he leaned back in his chair.

Then he blinked. “Thank you, sir.” He took a breath. “But if I had to take medication to make myself equal to the other candidates, I think that would be cheating.”

The Colonel's hand was suddenly on Tim's shoulder. He had no idea when he got that close, but Tim's flinch was involuntary.

“Good job, Private.” His grip rocked Tim from side to side slightly in his chair. “You passed that test.”

***

After graduation and a short break, Tim and Hank were both sent to Jump School. Everyone expected Hank to pass without issue while also expecting Tim to washout.

“Plenty of other jobs for you to do,” the Black Hat told him as he watched Tim's flutter kicks.

Tim and Hank both passed the first week, though about half of those originally in the course had been forced to drop out because they failed the physical tests. In the back of Tim's mind, he felt his heat like a ticking time-bomb. But each morning that dawned without it was another blessing, and when the three weeks of Airborne went by without so much as a cramp, Tim was starting to seriously doubt his designation.

But Tim was always sure about being a Ranger, and after jumping out of an airplane in full combat gear at night, he knew this was what he was meant to do.

He earned his Jump Wings, and then there was nothing holding him back.

***

Colonel Donovan Fischer was pissed.

“What difference does it make to you, Bob? It's my regiment, and if I want to let him try, I'm going to let him try!”

“It's a disgrace! You sully the entire _Army_ allowing that _bitch_ into the Ranger program!”

Don let the slur pass. “He has passed every test put to him. He will get no preferential treatment. If he fails, he fails. But he deserves the chance to try. He's earned that much.”

Don was pleased when the other Colonel in the room, Frank, finally decided to weigh in. “I agree with Colonel Fischer. Give Private Gutterson the chance. He has earned that right as much as any other candidate.”

Bob was red-faced, but could tell when he was beaten. “Fine,” he spat. “Allow the _cunt_ to make a mockery of the Ranger legacy, Fischer. What do I care?”

Don just chuckled. “Why are you so afraid of him becoming a Ranger, Bob? Is it because you barely passed Ranger School yourself?”

Don was glad the hearing was being conducted in private. No one needed to know why two Colonels had matching shiners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NCO - Non-Commissioned Officer: A military officer who has not earned a commission, usually obtaining their position of authority by promotion through the enlisted ranks. In contrast, Commissioned Officers hold higher ranks than NCOs, have more legal responsibilities, are paid more, and often have more non-military training such as a university diploma.
> 
> RIP - Ranger Indoctrination Program: designed to prepare soldiers, many of whom have just graduated Basic Combat Training (BCT), Advanced Individual Training (AIT), and Airborne School and are still considered "fresh" recruits, for assignment to the 75th Ranger Regiment. Upon successful completion of RIP, the new Rangers will don the tan Ranger beret and will have the scroll of the battalion they will be assigned to put on their shoulder. In 2010, RIP was replaced by the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program (RASP).
> 
> Battle Buddy - a partner assigned to a soldier in the United States Army. Each battle buddy is expected to assist his or her partner both in and out of combat. Advantages include decreased stress and rates of suicide and sexual assaults, increased morale, confidence, motivation, safety in training and combat, and better leadership skills. Disadvantages include personality conflicts, extra responsibilities, commitment to another person and interference with desired activities.
> 
> Airborne - The United States Army Airborne School: aka "Jump School," conducts the Basic Airborne Course, the basic paratrooper (military parachutist) training for the United States armed forces. It is operated by the 1st Battalion (Airborne), 507th Infantry, United States Army Infantry School, Fort Benning, Georgia. The United States Parachutist Badge, aka "Jump Wings" are awarded to personnel upon completion of the Basic Airborne Course.
> 
> One Station Unit Training (OSUT) - a training program in which recruits remain with the same unit for both Basic Combat Training (BCT) and Advanced Individual Training (AIT). Immediately following Basic Training, the unit seamlessly transforms from a BCT unit into an AIT unit. There is no relocation and the same Drill Sergeants who conducted the Basic Training continue to instruct all of the participating recruits in their Advanced Individual Training. This streamlines the training schedule and helps to produce more camaraderie between recruits. 11B (Infantry) at Fort Benning, Georgia follows an OSUT program.
> 
> Blue Cord - The Infantry Blue Cord is a United States Army decoration worn over the right shoulder of all qualified U.S. Army infantrymen. It is presented to all qualified infantrymen in the U.S. Army at the end of their Initial Entry Training. Enlisted infantrymen earn their Blue Cords after successfully completing all Infantry Training Brigade requirements required for achieving the infantry Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) by graduating from 16 weeks of OSUT, which is conducted at the U.S. Army Infantry Center's Infantry Training Brigade at Fort Benning, Georgia.
> 
> Hooah - used by soldiers in the U.S. Army. Its definition is nebulous, but its most widely accepted meaning is "anything and everything except 'no'." Alternatively HUA, meaning "Heard, Understood, Acknowledged."
> 
> Black Hat - slang for The Airborne School instructors due to the distinguishing black baseball caps with shiny brass rank insignia and parachutist badge that is part of the instructor's uniform.
> 
> Ranger School - not to be confused with RIP or RASP, Ranger School is an intense 61-day combat leadership course oriented toward small-unit tactics. It is the most physically and mentally demanding leadership school the Army has to offer. It is open to soldiers (commissioned officer, warrant officer, or enlisted), sailors, airmen, and Marines in the US Armed Forces, as well as allied military students. Those graduating from Ranger School are presented with the Ranger Tab, the wearing of which is permitted for the remainder of a soldier's military career.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed some things in the last chapter that influence how you may perceive Colonel Fischer, so you may want to do a quick re-read of Tim and his conversation in his office. If you don't, just go forward knowing that Fischer is a good guy, just plays a little hard and fast with Army rules and regs.

It was Sunday afternoon. Tim jumped up from doing diamond pushups, and Hank let out a whistle, glaring at his watch.

“You beat my time!” he whined.

Tim grinned and rubbed his hands together.

“Seriously, Tim, what the fuck are we doing here? This is our last day before we start RIP and you want to spend it doing fuckin' PT?”

Tim shrugged. “What do _you_ wanna do?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I dunno, maybe go out with the other guys? Hit that bar that Pete said served him last weekend? Get our dicks sucked?”

Tim crossed his arms. “Well what's holdin' you back?”

Hank scoffed. “You're my _Battle Buddy_ , we got to hold hands while we piss, didn't you get the memo?”

Tim closed his eyes, scratched his sweaty forehead with one finger. “You know I gotta work twice as hard to pass these tests,” he mumbled in a low tone.

Hank deflated. “I know, man. I'm just...I'm burnt out right now. I need a fucking drink or something. We should be out celebrating! We're in the fucking Regiment, man!”

Tim just stared at the concrete floor. “Not yet, I'm not.”

Hank sighed again, loud. “You will be. You think anyone else here is tougher than you? That's a joke, you're the most stubborn asshole to ever live. You'll get in just to spite them knotheads.”

Tim finally met Hank's eyes and smiled. “They're not _all_ knotheads.”

Hank made a face, deliberating.

“And if they are,” Tim continued. “They won't make it through RIP.”

Finally, Hank nodded and put an arm around Tim's neck to pull him toward the dining hall.

***

The four week Ranger Indoctrination Program was designed to weed out who wasn't cut out to be a Ranger. Tim knew the statistics. He knew that roughly half of them wouldn't make it through. He also knew that he and Hank would be in the half that did.

But the Sergeants were even more relentless than he imagined.

“What the fuck are you doing here, cunt? You think you're man enough to be a Ranger?”

The Alpha was inches away from his face.

“Yes, Sergeant,” Tim answered. Though it was probably a rhetorical question, he didn't want to insult him by not answering.

“Well then you can carry these in your ruck, bitch.”

They gave him two large boulders to weigh him down. Tim didn't bother thinking about how much they weighed, because it didn't matter if they were five pounds or fifty, he was going to do the run with them.

Hank tried to take one, to share the weight, but the Sergeants smoked him and Tim both.

“Oh no, your buddy isn't helping you with that.” One of them sneered, watching Tim's pushups. “Those rocks are in love, see? They got to stay together or they'll get lonely.”

Tim was glad he was face down. He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling. 

At least he didn't have to worry about going into heat. There was no way his body could even attempt a cycle with the amount of physical abuse they were all suffering.

***

Tim and Hank excelled at the land navigation, both day and night. They were one of the first across the line for the 5 mile run. They had been studying to be Rangers since they were boys, checking out every book from the Fayetteville library that they could get their hands on, so the answers to the Ranger history tests were written in their bones. In the combat exercises, Tim took direction like only someone of his designation could, following directions quickly and succinctly. Top marks in nearly everything.

Then one night halfway through the course, one of the Sergeants kicked Tim awake, though it was hardly necessary. Tim hadn't been sleeping. They were only allowed to lay down an hour before, and his body wouldn't let him rest.

“Get up, bitch. And follow me.”

Hank was startled as well, but there was only one private that the Sergeants called “bitch” and it wasn't him. Hank could only watch as Tim was led away.

***

They took him to a cabin in the middle of the woods. It was almost completely empty and absolutely freezing. There was a single lantern on a small table that was casting strange shadows over the faces of all of the instructors.

He didn't dare shiver in front of them, but it was a near thing.

It was then that Tim saw Colonel Fischer in the corner of the frigid cabin. His face was hard. Tim choked on his own spit in fear.

“Why are you here, Private?” he asked softly, but Tim could feel his words cut through the air, laced with menace.

Tim grit his teeth. “Because I was born to be a Ranger, sir.”

The Colonel walked closer to him. “What makes you think you're strong enough?”

Tim said nothing.

“What makes you think you deserve to fight alongside Alphas who've proven themselves to be the best?”

Tim ignored the violent gleam in the surrounding Sergeants's eyes. He focused on the Colonel when he answered, “I have passed every—”

“Oh, I know you're doing well, Private. I've seen your results.” He took another step closer to Tim. “But what makes you think that you, an omega, can stand shoulder to shoulder with those Alpha men out there and call yourself their equal?”

Tim's throat did _not_ become tight, goddammit.

“Well?” the Colonel prompted. “What makes you think you're worthy to wear the beret? Come on, son, let's hear it. Tell us.”

Tim swallowed and closed his eyes.

“TELL US!” he bellowed.

“Because _surrender is not a Ranger word_ , sir!” Tim yelled back.

The Colonel's eyes studied Tim almost cruelly. Tim felt weak, almost drunk on sleep deprivation, but he stood perfectly still under the scrutiny.

Finally the Colonel breathed, “Are you ready to prove it?”

Tim blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Then **_GET ON YOUR KNEES!_** ”

Tim's kneecaps hit the dirt floor of the cabin before he even realized he had moved. His body felt paralyzed, and his mouth was open in shock. He stared up at the Colonel, his body finally giving in to shivering.

He was frozen in place for a solid minute before stuttering out, “W-what did you d-do, sir?”

The Colonel narrowed his eyes at Tim. “You've never been Commanded by an Alpha?”

Tim shook his head weakly, “No, sir.” He wrapped his arms around himself instinctually, and fought the urge to vomit.

The Colonel nodded, “Good, because it's illegal in most states, and grounds for discharge here in the Army.”

Tim watched almost in a daze as the Colonel approached him, and pulled him up into a standing position. He wobbled only a little.

“But that doesn't mean they won't do it,” the Colonel whispered. He looked back at the Sergeants silently watching. “So I need to make sure that my omega Ranger can fight it.”

Tim forced himself to meet Colonel Fischer's eyes and was shocked at what he saw there. It was as if there was an invisible tether between them, and Tim could see past his words, to feel his emotion. And what he felt was loyalty. Protectiveness. And pride.

The Colonel made sure Tim's attention was back on his words before he continued. “You never know when an Alpha might try to Command you, so you need to always be ready, do you understand?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“This time, I want you to be ready for the Command. And fight it, that's an order. Do you understand, Private?”

Tim nodded again, trying to still his shivering. “Yes, sir.”

The Colonel didn't wait. “ _ **GET ON YOUR KNEES!**_ ”

Tim knew it was coming, but the Command took control of his body, bending his muscles, forcing him down instantly. His body broke out in goosebumps as he fought the Command, shaking almost violently. It wasn't until he heard Colonel Fischer's cheering that he opened his tear-streaked eyes and looked down.

He was on one knee. Only one.

The Colonel beamed. “It's an excellent start, Private.”

***

Just under half of the remaining class failed the water test. Tim supposed it was because most didn't think that water would be an issue if they knew how to swim. But it's different when you're wearing enough gear to make you sink to the bottom of whatever rushing river the Sergeants are having you cross. Tim struggled, but eventually passed. He was more winded than he expected to be, and vowed to do more training that included swimming.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Hank failed.

Tim watched as he panicked in the water and nearly drowned. Tim and the Sergeants had to dive in and get the gear off of him before he sank to the bottom in his panic. They dragged him to the muddy bank, and as Hank choked up water, Tim smacked him roughly on the back. He didn't know what to do. Hank could try again, of course, but...

“Fuck this, Tim,” he whispered under his breath. “They want us to fucking kill ourselves. And for what? Fuck this, I'll go Infantry.” He coughed up more water, spat it out. “Nothing's worth drowning over.”

Tim could only feel guilt for not doing more water-based training their senior year. Because Hank didn't fail the water test because he wasn't strong enough. Tim just had no idea that Hank was afraid of water.

***

After the final road march, the Sergeants had them do a final PT test—pull-ups. After 10 miles wearing all their equipment and rucks, everyone was exhausted. Tim's arms felt numb. They all circled around the bars and watched as each of them had to complete _just six_ pull-ups. Tim watched as the other guys shuffled forward, one by one, completing the exhausting task, then dropping down. Tim took off his ruck and vest. He felt so light he could float away. He knew he could do this. He looked around for Hank before remembering. He left his gear on the ground like the others and stepped forward to the bar.

He jumped up and hung there until the Sergeants told him to go. Somewhere in the middle of his set of six, he felt something hard hit him, the blow causing his head to bang into the bar. He let go of the bar instinctually and fell to the ground, his legs giving out and crumpling under him. Still on the ground, he gingerly touched the back of his head and found blood.

***

It was the final day of RIP. Colonel Donovan Fischer had to rein in his excitement. He watched from an outpost tower as the candidates finished their grueling 10 mile march. He smiled, remembering his own days as a young officer. He focused his binoculars on his protege, but frowned when he saw him.

“Oh no,” Don whispered.

“What is it, sir?” Lieutenant Colonel Leonard Grant, the commander of one of the Ranger Battalions, was also watching the recruits from the wooden tower.

“It's the omega I've been mentoring...” Don sighed softly. “I don't see his beta with him.”

The Lieutenant Colonel brought his binoculars up. “What's the beta's name?”

Don's eyes never left Tim. “Private Henry Biggs.”

Grant lowered his hands. “I think I remember the name from the Water-Based Combat Test report. Apparently, he nearly drowned.”

Don continued to scowl. “Well, shit.” He sighed, watching as Tim finished the march, but kept his ruck on. “That wasn't part of the plan.”

Grant nodded. “I'm sure I can find another battle buddy for him in my battalion.”

Don whipped his head to the side to look at the Lieutenant Colonel. “I'm not putting him with just anybody. It has to be someone you can _trust,_ Leonard. Someone you'd have watch over your own _daughter_ as she slept, do you understand?”

Grant tilted his head to the side like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Of course, Colonel. I know how much this means to you.” Then he headed down the stairs to join the other officers watching the final march.

“No you don't,” Don muttered under his breath as soon as the Lieutenant Colonel was out of earshot. “You beta piece of shit. You'd let your battalion eat him alive just because they were bored.”

“Talking to yourself, sir?”

Don jumped, turned to see his NCO walking up the stairs. “Jesus, John. Warn an old man.”

The Command Sergeant Major stood next to his officer, both looking down on the soon-to-be Rangers lining up to perform pull-ups. “Can you believe he did it, sir?”

Don puffed out his chest. “I never had a doubt.”

The officer and his NCO watched as Tim jumped up and hung on the bar.

The rock hurled at the back of Tim's head came from the direction of the large group of candidates, but Don didn't know which one. He saw red and started tearing down the steps of the tower toward the group of officers watching.

He was fucking furious.

***

Still on his knees, Tim looked up at the group of fellow soldiers gathered around him. He didn't pay too much attention to what some of the other guys had been saying about him, thinking that his actions would prove his worth, but obviously he had been living in a fantasy. How could he have been so stupid, thinking that they would ever accept him? Hank had always believed in him, but now he was gone. And Tim didn't see a single friendly face staring back at him.

One of the Sergeants finally reacted. “Who threw that?” he boomed.

Some of the candidates looked around, to see if anyone would come forward, but most stood eerily still.

“WHO THREW THAT ROCK?” the Sergeant yelled again. This time Tim's skin broke out into goosebumps, his body recognizing the potential threat of a Command if the Sergeant didn't get his answer.

A voice called out from the back of the throng, “Private Johnson threw that rock, Sergeant Mills!”

And like the parting of the Red Sea, the candidates moved aside to reveal a tall, freckled redheaded boy with glasses. He pointed to the private standing next to him. “I saw him take a rock from Private Gutterson's rucksack.”

Sergeant Mills stalked up to stand inches away from the two of them. “Why didn't you stop him, Private?”

The freckled boy looked down slightly, “I didn't realize his intentions until it was too late, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Mills turned to glare at Private Johnson. “Why would you attack a fellow soldier, you useless waste of space?”

The bully deflated almost instantly.

“Is it because you're jealous of his cunt, you stupid sow?” Sergeant Mills turned to gesture to the rest of the group of candidates. “You think any of these real men want a maggot like _you_ at their backs?”

Johnson started to shake.

Sergeant Mills stalked closer to him, then hissed, “Get the fuck out of my sight. I need time to think about what I'm going to do with a shit stain like you without your bitch-ass scent clogging up my nose.”

Sergeant Mills turned around before the shamed private could even respond. He stalked back to where Tim was still on the ground, holding the back of his bleeding head.

“Get up, Gutterslut,” the Sergeant barked at Tim.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to stand.

“Get up there,” the Sergeant nodded roughly to the bar. “And give me 6 pull-ups.”

Tim's vision began to swim, but he jumped up again, this time his bloody hands slipped slightly on the bars. He hung with one hand, wiped the other on his pants, then did the same with the other. When he finally felt he had a good grip with both hands, he hung there numbly, waiting.

Finally the Sergeant nodded. “Go.”

It took every ounce of strength Tim had to pull himself up. When he finally managed to get his chin above the bar, he heard someone behind him.

“One,” the voice counted. Tim recognized the voice as the redheaded private who identified the asshole who threw one of his “love rocks” at him. But his skin was on fire, and Tim was sure he was delirious.

Tim lowered himself to his starting position and exhaled. Then he pulled himself up again.

“Two,” he heard the private continue to count, and Tim lowered himself again.

***

Colonel Fischer forced himself to calm down, watching as it played out. He heard the slur from the Sergeant, watched as Tim struggled to stand, but did so. Then watched as the redheaded young man walked from his place at the back of the group, carrying both his and Tim's rucks and vests. The redhead set the gear down at his feet, then turned so that his back was to the bar, placing himself directly in front of Tim. Don had to forcibly keep a smile from his face. The redhead crossed his arms and nodded at the group. Others suddenly stepped forward, forming a human half-circle barricade around Tim, as if daring someone else to try to attack him. The redhead turned around to face Sergeant Mills.

“Go,” the Sergeant said, the hint of a smile threatening to form on his normally severe face.

The group watched as Tim began his set, and the group of men surrounding him counted out his pull-ups. The counting grew louder and louder until all of them were cheering Tim on.

Tim dropped down from the bar, exhausted, but still on his feet. Sergeant Mills ordered a medic over immediately.

“See to his head,” he barked at the medic, then turned to the rest of the group. “Don't think that little display of camaraderie gets you out of your pull-ups! If the _omega_ can do it with his head split open, the rest of you better _fly_ through it! Now, line up!”

***

Colonel Fischer made sure that Private Johnson was disqualified from joining any Ranger Regiment, ever. He made an official report and wrote his own evaluation of Johnson's character. He was working to get him kicked out of the Army altogether, but he didn't have the needed pull to do that on his own.

He watched with pride later that week as Sergeant Mills presented Tim with his beret.

He had worked with all the other officers to make sure that there was suddenly two vacancies in the 3rd Battalion, and that both Tim and the redhead would be assigned there. Don liked the commander, another Alpha like himself that would understand the uniqueness of having an omega Ranger. And he was confident that this Lieutenant Colonel understood his vision for Tim.

Don insisted on meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Kenneth Coleman many times during Tim's training, but needed one final sit-down to seal the deal.

“You're positive you don't want him on sups, sir?” the Lieutenant Colonel asked.

Don shook his head. “Then what's the point of having him there? Suppressants do more than just prevent a heat cycle, they dampen everything that makes an omega...an omega! Scenting would be impossible! He would smell just like every other beta, only the Alpha in command wouldn't be able to scent that he's hurt, or hiding something, or needing a rest.”

Ken nodded, rubbing his hand over his dark hair. “Well...then he'll need a support Alpha. To get him through his heats.”

Don grinned. “Exactly. Did you have someone in mind?”

Ken rolled his neck. “Perhaps...” he trailed off.

Don leaned forward, “Of course, he'd have to be in Delta.”

Ken looked at the Colonel, hard. “That company is comprised of Alphas. Only Alphas.”

Don scoffed. “Come on, Ken! Did you really think that I would place him anywhere but the very best?”

Ken had to smile at the Colonel's flattery.

“Besides,” Don continued. “I've shown you the research from the Vietnam prison camps. Do I need to remind you what an omega is capable of doing to an Alpha squad? The increase in strength alone when those Alphas perceive that their omega is in danger?”

Ken shook his head, but conceded. “I'll talk to them when they get back from Africa. Day after tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Don agreed.

***

Tim walked around the empty barracks with a broom in his hand, absently touching the Ranger scroll on his arm with something akin to awe. Lieutenant Colonel Coleman told him to prepare for his company's arrival today, and Tim didn't see anything wrong with making sure the place was clean while he pinched himself to make sure it was all real. He really did it. He was a Ranger.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly walked into another private.

“Whoops,” he mumbled. Tim looked up and saw it was the redhead from the final day of RIP. He smiled, “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” the redhead answered. He looked even more lost than Tim.

Tim moved the broom to his left hand. “I'm Tim,” he stuck out his hand.

“Chris,” the redhead responded, automatically grasping Tim's hand. “I guess we're supposed to be battle buddies, now.”

Tim tried to smile, but he's sure it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't think you sticking your neck out for me would land you a permanent spot as my support beta.”

Chris blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Tim shrugged. “Never mind.”

Chris nodded, looked around the room again. “S'quiet.”

Tim nodded back. Chris was no Hank, but he'd take friends where he could get them.

***

Delta Company arrived back at base around 0200 with enough noise to make Tim think they were under attack.

Both Tim and Chris were instantly roused from their beds. In a matter of moments, the barracks was a complete pigsty that stunk of Alpha pheromones and cheap beer. A specialist with the name “RUIZ” on his uniform grabbed Chris around the neck and gave him a very affectionate noogie.

“Aww, is this my new baby Ranger?” Ruiz cooed, sticking Chris under his armpit and rocking him back and forth.

A pair Alphas stopped short when they saw Tim.

“Shit.” A dark-skinned Alpha chuckled. “I mean, Sarge told us an omega passed RIP. But damn. I didn't think he was serious...”

“You sure he's an omega?” The other Alpha cocked his head. “Maybe we better make sure...”

“Uhh-tennn...SHUN!”

Everyone snapped their feet together, including Tim, grateful for the officer's interference.

It was a captain Tim didn't recognize, but his name and rank on his uniform told him that he was the commander of Delta Company, just returned from Africa with these men.

The Alpha captain looked around the room at his men. “Yes, there is an omega and a beta in the barracks. No, it is not a joke. Yes, you have leave for a week. No, you cannot leave until you bring in all your gear from outside. Yes, the newest members of the Company will help you with that.” He paused dramatically, seeming to make eye contact with everyone in the room. “And remember...”

The rest of the men called back to the captain fondly, “Wrap it before you tap it!”

The captain placed his hands on his hips and nodded once. “Good job, men. Have a nice weekend.”

Tim was almost trampled by the Alphas rushing to grab their gear from outside. He moved backwards to avoid the crowd and backed right into a solid chest.

He spun around, an apology spilling out. “I'm sorry...” his eyes darted to the man's uniform. “Staff Sergeant.”

The man was handsome, and he smelled like pipe tobacco and freshly-cut lumber. He looked down at Tim with a smirk. “No problem, Private. It's good we bumped into each other anyway. The Colonel was going to introduce us next week, but I think we best get this over with now.”

Tim inhaled and licked his lips, causing himself to taste the man's scent, sending a jolt of heat to his gut. “Get what over with, Sergeant?”

He smiled wide, showing off the most perfect set of teeth Tim had ever seen. “I'm your support Alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To "get smoked" by someone / to "smoke" someone - when a recruit messes up and the Drill Sergeant orders him (or the entire group of recruits) to do a lot of PT as a form of "corrective action"
> 
> "Surrender is not a Ranger word" - here, Tim is quoting the Ranger Creed
> 
> The idea for the "love rocks" in Tim's ruck came from a former Ranger's story about his time in RIP that I read on a blog somewhere...
> 
>  
> 
> I'd REALLY appreciate some feedback on this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the rating change and new tags! Here there be sex.

Don was beginning to think that this was a bad idea. He didn't like his smug smirk. He didn't like his smokey musk, subtly soured by the faintest hint of blood.

But he trusted the Lieutenant Colonel who had selected him to be Tim's support Alpha, so he tried to reserve judgment.

It was early, and he knew that the Staff Sergeant had arrived back from Africa late last night, but he showed no signs of fatigue. Don had a fleeting thought, envying his youth.

“Sergeant Moloney, glad you could make it.”

“My pleasure, sir,” the young NCO responded cordially. “Though I promise you, Lieutenant Colonel Coleman briefed me quite thoroughly last night.”

Don tried to smile, his cheeks feeling pinched. “Yes, I'm sure he did. I just want to go over a few more things.”

The Staff Sergeant smiled. “I'm all ears, sir.”

Don sighed, collecting his thoughts. “Tim is special,” he began.

The younger Alpha nodded. “Yes, sir. I agree.”

Don's eyes flashed. “How can you agree with me, Sergeant?” Don snapped.

“I saw him last night,” Moloney interjected before the older Alpha's temper could escalate.

Don sat back in his chair. “What did you think?”

The younger Alpha smirked. “At first, I thought he was the beta. The kid is jacked.”

Don beamed. “Well, Tim takes it upon himself to keep in top physical shape. I think he's afraid of disqualifying himself.”

Moloney nodded. “But when I got closer to him, I could smell it. Sir, has he been to the infirmary recently?”

Don narrowed his eyes. “Not since intake. What did you smell?”

Moloney shrugged, the movement causing his massive shoulders to stretch his uniform. “It's hard to describe. But he smelled...not well.”

Don scoffed, “You think he's sick?”

Moloney shook his head. “Not sick, sir. Maybe just tired.”

Don got up from his chair to grab Tim's file from his locked cabinet. “Well, I would think so. RIP takes soldiers and makes them Rangers. If he wasn't _tired_ , he'd be a goddamn machine.” He thumbed through the file, purposefully keeping it tilted away from the Staff Sergeant.

Moloney cleared his throat. “Anyway, sir, I'd like permission to take him to a male omega specialist. I found one here on base.”

Don flicked his eyes up. “For what purpose?”

The Staff Sergeant met his gaze. “Just to make sure he's healthy. Most men come out of RIP in pretty rough shape. Even if he says he's OK, an omega without a heat cycle just doesn't seem right.”

Don tried to keep his breathing under control. “So you spoke to him last night,” he questioned softly.

Moloney shrugged, the beginnings of that smirk Don hated creeping onto his face. “I might've made an offhand comment about him needing my services, and he told me he wouldn't. Is convinced he doesn't go into heat anymore.”

Don was trying really hard to like this cocky Alpha. The man was just making it increasingly difficult.

“Fine. Take him to the specialist. I'd be interested to hear what he has to say.”

“ _She,_ ” Moloney corrected.

Don just resisted rolling his eyes. “We need to talk strategy,” he switched tactics. Hopefully this Staff Sergeant was every bit the leader that Ken had promised.

“Yessir. I had my own thoughts about that...”

***

Tim stood dressed and waiting outside his Staff Sergeant's room. He was being forced to go to the doctor, though Tim had tried to tell him he felt fine. While he was waiting, an officer just a little older than Tim exited his room.

His cold eyes raked up and down Tim. “So you're the omega,” the Lieutenant sneered, pushing his long blonde bangs out of his eyes.

Tim nodded, but continued to stare at the closed door to the Staff Sergeant's room, willing it to open. “Yes, sir.”

The Lieutenant walked closer to Tim, inhaled deeply, then exhaled through his nose, the humid heat hitting Tim's neck. “I don't see what all the fuss is about,” he whispered.

Tim turned to look at him directly. “Me either, sir. I just want to do my job.”

The door opened, and Tim tried not to look too relieved. The young Lieutenant backed away from Tim like he'd been burned.

Staff Sergeant Moloney looked unimpressed. “Lieutenant, the boys'll never let you live it down if they're ready before you are.”

The young man scratched his pointy nose. “I was just introducing myself to our omega.”

Moloney cocked his head to the side slightly. “I'll be sure to tell Private Gutterson your name, as I'm sure you were too busy to do so before assaulting his neck with your inert nose.”

The Lieutenant flushed red and turned on his heel. “I'll see you for our noon debrief, Staff Sergeant,” he called haughtily over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” Moloney responded, waiting until the officer had turned down the next hallway before turning to face Tim. “Good morning, Private,” he smiled at Tim.

The corners of Tim's mouth curved up in response. “Morning, Sergeant.”

“How'd you sleep?”

Tim blinked. “Fine.”

“Good,” he replied, and started briskly down the hall. “Don't worry about Lieutenant Shaw. He's just worried that the men won't think he's capable, him not being an Alpha...”

“Gee, wonder what that's like,” Tim deadpanned.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Moloney turned to grin at him. “You're kind of a smart ass, aren't you?”

Tim raised his eyebrows innocently.

***

The doctor was technically a Captain, but insisted that Tim call her Dr. Fustini. She was young, and had brown hair with blonde highlights that Tim knew were fake, but they looked nice on her. She was an omega, like him. She asked if she could call him Tim.

“Sure,” Tim agreed. He'd been “Tim” for most of his life, he wasn't about to throw a fit about his rank.

“Ok, Tim. I'm going to speak with Staff Sergeant Moloney for just a moment. You go ahead and put on the gown and then sit on the table with your feet in the stirrups.”

Tim looked over his shoulder at the table with the weird metal things sticking out of the end. “The what, now?”

She was at least a head shorter than him. “Have you never been to an andrologist before, Tim?” She asked, placing her tiny hand on his arm.

Tim shook his head, “I guess not, considering I have no idea what that is, ma'am.”

“Call me Dr. Fustini, please. An andrologist is a doctor that specializes in male reproduction. Specifically omega males.”

Tim sighed. “Look, doc, my old man was a piece of shit that never once even acknowledged I was an omega, so—”

“I understand,” she interrupted with a gentle smile. “What I need you to do is to take off your uniform and underwear, and put on the gown. Then just sit on the edge of the table. I'll come back in, and then we'll get you into the stirrups, ok?”

Tim exhaled. “Sure.”

***

It didn't take him long to undress. He felt more naked with the gown on than without it. Sitting on the edge of the table made him think he was going to flash the doctor the moment she opened the door again, but she had put up a privacy partition to shield him from the door.

When she finally did come back in, she smiled again.

“Alright, Tim, I just need you to put your heels in the metal stirrups here. I'm going to guide your legs.”

He started to freeze up as she bent his legs to put them in the stirrups. It felt weird, like his whole asshole was on display. He huffed in amusement. He supposed that was the point.

“Scoot your behind to the edge of the table for me?” She asked so politely, Tim could do nothing but comply. “Perfect,” she murmured. “I'm going to apply some lubricant to ease the way for the forceps, alright? Normally, I have an assistant with me, but no one else has the clearance,” she told him.

He huffed. “My asshole has a security clearance?” He flinched as the cold gel touched his balls and then dripped down.

The doctor laughed. “Well, yes, I guess it does. Top Brass doesn't want anyone knowing they're sending an omega to the front lines.”

Tim rolled his eyes, certain that she couldn't see him. The uncomfortableness of the entire situation was loosening his tongue. “If I ever get there.”

She smeared the cold gel around. “Are you so eager to fight, Tim?”

Tim scoffed. “Why else do you join the Army?”

The doctor hummed and turned away from Tim to grab a truly monstrous looking device. “I joined because I wanted to help people.”

Tim felt the device push on his entrance, and he clenched instinctively.

“Relax, Tim,” she murmured. “This will be over soon.”

He tried to breathe through the panic, but his legs were shaking. Then the doctor put a small hand on his bare stomach and started rubbing, just above his flaccid cock.

To his absolute horror, his body relaxed and accepted the device. He even felt a wave of slick leave him. He was sure his face was red. God, he just wanted to die.

“When was your first heat cycle, Tim?” she asked him, like she was discussing the weather.

He swallowed the wetness that had collected in his throat. “I was fourteen,” he breathed out in a rush.

“Have you ever been knotted?” She asked, maneuvering the device inside of him.

Tim licked his lips. “No.”

“Before joining the Army, were your cycles regular?”

The device suddenly stilled, but then seemed to expand, causing Tim to tense up again and sending pain radiating to every part of his body.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a tear leaked out. “Yes, ma'am.”

The doctor's voice was sweet when she said, “It's almost over, Tim. Just going to get a quick sample for the lab.”

Tim was gripping the table so hard that he started to rip the cushion. It seemed like an eternity before she patted his knee gently and told him he could take his feet out of the stirrups.

“I'm going to run this sample down the hall. You can get dressed now.”

Tim felt shaky, worse then he ever felt during any part of his training. Everything below his navel _ached._

Fuck, he hated being an omega.

***

Tim had collected himself by the time she made it back to the room. “How are you feeling, Tim?”

“Fine,” he answered shortly.

She studied him for a moment. “Staff Sergeant Moloney scheduled this appointment with me because he was concerned about you not having a heat cycle for over six months. Normally, I would agree with him. But after seeing you today, it's clear that your body just isn't getting enough calories.”

Tim stared back at her.

“So I'm going to make sure he knows that you need to eat twice as much as before. Right now, your body is in starvation mode. As soon as it starts getting the right amount of calories, your cycles should resume as normal.”

Tim blinked. “Why would I want them to start again?”

She sighed quietly. “Tim, I know that your cycle is inconvenient, believe me, _I know..._ but right now, you're severely malnourished. I know RIP is meant to be tough, but surviving on _half_ the amount of calories your growing body needs is just stupid,” she spat. “It's going to affect your performance, eventually. Your body is going to start shutting down other important functions.”

Tim ground his teeth. “Fine. Thank you, ma'am. Doc.” He amended lamely.

She smiled at him. “Great. I'll send the samples to the lab, and let you know the results as soon as I have them, but everything looked good down there.”

Tim couldn't help but smile. “Well at least my asshole's healthy.”

***

Tim wasn't particularly hungry, but he ate more. He compensated by doing more PT, which seemed to amuse the rest of his company more than anything. They didn't bother him much, and Tim found he actually enjoyed Chris's company. He was just shy.

The doctor sent for Tim again a few days later. Told him that the lab results showed signs of a hormone deficiency—particularly the one involved in reproduction.

The doctor told him he wouldn't be able to have children without taking a hormone replacement. Said it was common in male omegas, and that he shouldn't be worried. Tim decided it didn't bother him much, since he'd never planned on having kids anyway.

But four weeks after he upped his food intake, Tim could tell it was coming.

His senses were keener. He could smell everything, everyone. Tiny needles felt like they were poking him everywhere. Even colors seemed brighter. He didn't remember his time of the month affecting him like this before, but he was loathe to go back to the doctor to ask her. He would have to ask Moloney or Shaw for permission, and that would require an explanation to them as well.

The first day, the other guys just stared at him a little longer than usual. But they were getting used to the idea of an omega in their unit, so Tim didn't pay it too much attention.

The second day, Tim started rubbing his arm while he was cleaning his rifle. Then he kept doing it because it felt nice. It wasn't until Chris sat down on the bed next to him, causing Tim to jump, that he snapped out of his trance-like state, and then pinched himself to wake the fuck up.

He forced himself to finish cleaning his rifle before finding Staff Sergeant Moloney.

“Excuse me, Sergeant?” Tim tried to keep his voice down, but he was in the middle of the equipment room where there were plenty of other guys around.

Moloney didn't even look up from whatever piece of equipment he was bent over. “Private Gutterson.”

Tim grit his teeth waiting for Moloney to intuit why he was standing there. But the moment dragged on, and Tim swallowed his discomfort at the situation. Better to have it all out in the open than to have the guys spreading rumors. “I think it's time,” he muttered.

That did cause the Staff Sergeant to look up. His smirk was amused. “Not quite yet, it's not. Almost.”

Tim stood there slack-jawed because he was literally speechless.

“I...” Tim began, searching for words. “Wha—”

The Staff Sergeant cocked his head to the side. “I thought Colonel Fischer explained this to you. We need you as you are, Private. In the field, off-sups. And if you get a knot now, that will stop your heat before it even starts.” Moloney made no effort to keep his voice low, and several of the men in the room were turned toward them, listening to every word. “How am I supposed to know how you perform under pressure? How can I count on you in the shit if I don't know how long it takes you to lose your mind on base?”

The Staff Sergeant probably had more to say, but Tim had stopped listening. They were going to let him go insane. They were probably all under orders to stay as far away from him as possible, just waiting for the moment that he got down on his knees, stuck his ass in the air, and begged one of them to fuck him. They were going to sit back and enjoy the show as he became a base animal.

Tim balled his fists, and forced them to remain at his sides, though he just barely managed that.

Moloney suddenly crowded Tim, and spoke low and directly into his ear so that no one but Tim could hear, “I can smell that you're pissed, Private, and I can respect that. But we have to train hard in times of peace so that I can lead you to the best of my ability. I can't do that if I don't know when you'll break. Hooah?”

The Staff Sergeant's scent was overwhelming, and Tim breathed in a mouthful, swallowing the moan that threatened to escape. The smell of burning tobacco leaves soothed the fire boiling in his blood. “Hooah,” he answered.

The Alpha stepped away, and Tim breathed in a lungful of clean air. He glared at the gawkers left in the room before walking back out.

Tim was calmer than before, and the moment of clarity provided him the necessary time to formulate a plan. No matter what, no matter how much his body ached, he wouldn't beg. Or if he did, it would be for a bullet before it would ever be for an Alpha's knot.

And that was a goddamn promise.

***

The third day was torture. Lieutenant Shaw decided on an impromptu 10-mile ruck march, just for the hell of it. Tim was leaking so much slick, he was sure it was dripping down his legs to soak his fucking socks. But everyone was sweating buckets, so it looked normal enough.

But even Chris eventually began to notice that Tim was struggling.

“What's up, Guts?” the beta asked, his face red and splotchy despite it being winter in Georgia. “You look like shit.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “I'm starting my cycle. First time around Alphas. Just having a little trouble.”

Chris's eyes got wide, and he turned his face away. “Anything I can do?” he muttered.

Tim shook his head. “Not unless you can pop a knot,” he singsonged.

Chris chuckled, but his face showed concern. “Who's gonna take care of you?” he asked in an undertone.

Tim sighed. “Moloney. He's my support Alpha.”

Chris's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “Are you serious? Dude, he's like, _old!_ ”

Tim bit his lip to keep from laughing, eyeing the Staff Sergeant up ahead of them. He made sure he was well out of earshot before replying. “Ten years isn't that much. Besides, he's the only one that won't make it weird. It'd be weird if it was another private.” Tim thought a little harder. “Or Lieutenant Shaw, that'd be pretty weird, too.”

Chris side-eyed him, his eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses. “You just keep telling yourself that, Guts.”

Tim adjusted the ruck on his back. “Yeah, alright. It's weird any way.”

Chris laughed, smacked Tim on the arm. Tim tried to convince himself he didn't lean into the touch like a bitch in heat.

***

On the fourth day, they were all headed to the Mess Hall to eat breakfast. Tim walked next to Chris, bumping into him more than he probably should have, but it felt good to touch another person, and Chris didn't say anything. They were headed to pick up their trays when another guy in Delta Company took it out of his hands.

“Let me fix you a tray, Guts. Go pop a squat,” Specialist Perry motioned to the tables without meeting Tim's eyes. Tim noticed the other guys had started calling him “Guts” like Chris. He liked it a hell of a lot better than “Gutterslut” or whatever other things they called him in their heads. When Tim made no effort to move, the Alpha finally looked Tim right in his dilated, lidded eyes. “Go on, now. I got you.”

Tim was feeling especially weak and shaky, so he accepted the help with a nod and headed to his seat. His back was to Perry when he heard the loud argument.

Another Alpha, Ruiz, walked up to Perry and pulled the empty tray from his hands. “Guts doesn't want a tray from you. I'll bring him his breakfast.”

With some effort, Tim turned around to see the two Alphas standing nose to nose.

Well, shit.

Staff Sergeant Moloney was on them in an instant, his voice low and dangerous. “I can't have two of my best men ripping each other apart over this. I'm sure Gutterson appreciates the gesture, but until he's incapable of walking, he'll fix his own goddamn tray, is that understood?”

The Alphas were glaring at each other, their chests heaving.

Moloney snatched the empty tray from Ruiz. “IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?” Moloney bellowed.

They both blinked at the same time, and backed away from each other. “Yeah, Sarge. Hooah,” Perry replied.

Moloney looked at Ruiz, and he finally looked down. “Hooah.”

Moloney turned around to look at Tim. “Come get your tray, Gutterson.”

Tim was glad he was still standing. He tried to walk as normally as possible over to the group of Alphas and took the tray.

“Everybody eat their goddamn breakfast, and then report to the armory,” he barked, then stalked away from Tim.

Tim blinked rapidly to clear his head. His body wanted to collapse, but he was grateful his mind would be occupied on the range all day. He just needed to make it through breakfast without causing his fellow soldiers to tear each other to shreds.

Chris stood behind him again to keep the Alphas from standing too close to him. Tim had never been so grateful for his null beta scent.

***

Time passed that day with large gaps that Tim couldn't remember. He didn't remember their quick 3-mile jog, but he did remember Chris smacking the back of his head in the showers afterward because apparently Tim was spending way too much time washing his junk and the Alphas across from them had started staring.

Tim barely remembered shooting his rifle that morning. When he realized that he'd lost that much time, he quickly dried and dressed himself, then went to find Moloney.

It was nearing dinner time, and Tim found him in the officer's quarters. “Sergeant?” he hoped his speech wasn't slurred.

The door was open to the Staff Sergeant's room, and Tim's knees started to buckle when he entered. It just smelled _so fucking good._

It was physically painful to remain standing, but he managed. Moloney was there, leading him further into the room and talking to him. Tim could see his lips moving, but all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears.

Then he left Tim standing there in the middle of the small room. Tim was about to scream in frustration when he appeared again, this time closing the door behind him.

“Alright, kid, just take it easy. Nice and slow. I'm gonna take care of you,”

Tim closed his eyes and let his head drop back, exposing his neck. Fucking finally.

He felt the Alpha's heat as he walked up next to him, could vaguely feel him removing his uniform. Tim blinked slowly and raised his hands to try and help expedite the process, but he just ended up getting in the way of Moloney's fingers, causing him to chuckle. The sound sent goosebumps tingling down his arms.

Before he realized any time had passed, he was naked and Moloney was telling him to get on his knees.

Tim knelt and his knees hit a soft blanket that smelled heavenly. In a far away place in his brain that was still capable of rational thought, he vaguely wondered when Moloney had managed to pull his bedding to the floor.

“Feels nice,” he muttered to himself.

The Alpha chuckled again. “I got something better.”

Tim's brow screwed up in concentration as he allowed Moloney to push his chest to the blanket, folding his body in half. He wondered what could possibly feel better than being naked and kneeling for his Alpha.

Then he felt the Staff Sergeant's fingers brush his hole, and holy shit, this was actually happening. Tim was about to lose his virginity to his NCO. He'd spent months agonizing about this, but at this moment in time, Tim felt like he could care less. There was a nice fog over his brain that let him simply enjoy what was happening to him. He spread his knees just a bit more and laid his head down on his arms. It felt nice to be so open. His limbs felt like liquid soaking into the blanket.

Tim thought that Moloney was talking to him, maybe asking him something, but Tim didn't really care what it was, just letting his voice wash over him. Then he felt something push against his entrance and then finally breach him, Tim's slick easing the way. His eyes shot open because Christ Almighty, that felt amazing. Why hadn't he done this before?

Moloney began to move, and Tim just allowed himself to feel. There was something deep in his gut that was coiled hot and tight and it felt like every thrust of the Alpha behind him was tightening it, bit by bit. He felt engulfed by the Alpha's heady musk and dug his forehead into his arms. He didn't realize he'd been moaning, open-mouth gasps that had to be echoing off the plain white walls of the room. The coil in his gut was becoming unbearable, and Tim squeezed his eyes shut and silently prayed for more. He didn't know what, but he knew the Alpha was holding back something he needed. The agony continued for the longest moment of Tim's life until he was screaming. Then he was filled beyond what he thought capable of, and the coil snapped. He flailed, ripping the soft blanket he was laying on and moaning over and over as his eyes rolled back in his head.

***

Tim slowly came back to himself. He realized his back was pressed against Moloney's as they sat there on the floor of the small room, Tim literally in his lap. He tried to get up, but Moloney held him tightly.

“Easy, kid. We're still knotted.”

Tim flushed red, but rolled his eyes. “Think you could call me 'Tim' while you're inside me?”

Moloney laughed. “Maybe. But only if you call me Ryan.”

Tim felt the coil in his gut return. The name suited him, Tim decided. And he decided he loved the deep timbre of his voice. It made Tim's skin break out in goosebumps and his head go all fuzzy. He stopped worrying about what he looked like naked in front of his NCO.

Tim sat there, enjoying the Alpha's scent. “How long do I gotta sit on your lap like you're Santa Claus?”

The Alpha nosed Tim's scent gland. “M'not sure, really.” He leaned back. “You were out of it for a bit, but my knot usually goes down pretty quick. Dunno why it's taking this long.”

Tim grinned, though Moloney couldn't see it. “Maybe it's having a hard time letting go of my virginity,” he laughed, pleased at his own clever response.

Moloney, who hadn't been moving much to begin with, became a statue. _“What?”_

“I said—”

“I heard what you said,” he interrupted. Tim could scent that he was slightly panicked. “You mean, you were a...?”

Tim blinked. “A virgin? Yeah.”

Moloney was frozen. “But surely you...did things...in high school...?” he trailed off.

Tim huffed. “In high school, I was worried about keeping my head down and becoming a Ranger. Plus, I was the only kid in school with a designation. No one was interested in me.” He didn't say it to garner pity, it was merely a statement of fact.

Moloney's arms held Tim just a fraction tighter. “Shit, by the time I was your age, I'd had sex at least half a dozen times, with half a dozen people.”

Tim was glad he couldn't see his face. “Well, we're not all ridiculously attractive Alphas who smell like danger and look like James Dean,” he deadpanned.

Tim felt a nip on his neck, near his scent gland, and he shuddered. “You think I'm attractive?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know you're hotter than hell, Sergeant. I'm not going to stroke your ego.”

He nipped his neck again. “How 'bout you stroke something else, then?”

The bottom fell out of Tim's gut. He again tried to stand, and this time Moloney didn't pull him back. Tim winced as his dick slid out.

He kept his back to the Staff Sergeant as he collected his clothes from the floor.

“I'll walk you to the showers,” Moloney offered. “You can get cleaned up. Then we'll see if there's anything left in the Mess Hall for your dinner.”

Tim pulled on his pants first, forgoing his underwear as they were completely soaked with slick. “I'm fine. I'll have Chris take me.”

Tim was surprised he could distinguish the hint of irritation in the Alpha's scent.

Despite that, the Alpha huffed his assent and allowed Tim to dress himself.

When Tim was finally dressed and looking as presentable as he could, given the circumstances, he turned and nodded to the Alpha.

Moloney just sat there naked on the bare mattress. “Until next month, kid.”

Tim nodded again and closed the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Any glaring inaccuracies you see about the Army, we're just gonna let it roll and say that in this omegaverse, that's how it is. Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm now on Tumblr! (Because I hear that's where all the cool kids hang):  
> [bulma90-13.tumblr.com](https://bulma90-13.tumblr.com)


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